I. They Got Dirt on Him (Literally) [ Yuri had many close brushes with death in his life, but not once had anyone managed to bury him. All's quite still until his hand springs out of the earth like the dead are rising, and it doesn't wait for assistance before scrabbling about for purchase, as the man attached to that hand decidedly doesn't like this state of affairs one bit.
Whether assisted or not, Yuri will emerge from his unwanted dirtnap looking bewildered and harried for a hot second... before he notices someone else is present. That's his cue to smooth himself out with a little too much practiced ease, composing himself as though none of that happened at all just now. ]
Thanks for the hand, friend.
[ Is he sarcastic or sincere? It's difficult to tell, whether one helped him or not. ]
II. No Such Thing as a Free Meal (Springstar/Highstorm) [ Once he's gotten his bearings, in as much as he can, Yuri decides to check out the welcome party. He doesn't know enough about either faction to pledge his services, for one thing. For another, how can a man not be curious? Regardless of the locale, this leads to a man who almost looks like some darker version of a storybook prince standing near the refreshment table, observing.
Whether it's the others around him or the sweets in front of him that have his eye depends entirely upon timing. Yuri trusts precious little of this situation, and he has yet to decide whether it's worth risking a bite of the food, or whether he wants to approach anyone...
But he sure is lingering around those pastries. ]
III. What was Lost [ At some point in his drifting around this odd realm he finds himself in, Yuri hunkers down on a bench. It really doesn't matter terribly where — what difference does it make, truly? — but he thinks himself quite alone. As alone as one can be in this place, populous as it seems to him. Regardless, after stealing a covert look around, Yuri procures a well-worn leather bound notebook from somewhere on his person.
His expression clouds over, growing distant from all that he's surrounded by as he flips it open to an unfinished page. There, rows of names are penned in flowing, oddly elegant handwriting. Yuri lingers on this, his painted lips drawing out into a thin, pensive line. Does he even have enough pages for everyone? What of those he never even knew...? ]
Assuming it's even the truth...this some 'take my word for it' situation...?
[ He mutters to himself, eyes still riveted to the names there. ]
IV. Wildcard [ ooc: Want to do something else entirely? Throw it my way. ]
Yuri Leclerc | Fire Emblem Warriors: Three Hopes | TDM
[ Yuri had many close brushes with death in his life, but not once had anyone managed to bury him. All's quite still until his hand springs out of the earth like the dead are rising, and it doesn't wait for assistance before scrabbling about for purchase, as the man attached to that hand decidedly doesn't like this state of affairs one bit.
Whether assisted or not, Yuri will emerge from his unwanted dirtnap looking bewildered and harried for a hot second... before he notices someone else is present. That's his cue to smooth himself out with a little too much practiced ease, composing himself as though none of that happened at all just now. ]
Thanks for the hand, friend.
[ Is he sarcastic or sincere? It's difficult to tell, whether one helped him or not. ]
II. No Such Thing as a Free Meal (Springstar/Highstorm)
[ Once he's gotten his bearings, in as much as he can, Yuri decides to check out the welcome party. He doesn't know enough about either faction to pledge his services, for one thing. For another, how can a man not be curious? Regardless of the locale, this leads to a man who almost looks like some darker version of a storybook prince standing near the refreshment table, observing.
Whether it's the others around him or the sweets in front of him that have his eye depends entirely upon timing. Yuri trusts precious little of this situation, and he has yet to decide whether it's worth risking a bite of the food, or whether he wants to approach anyone...
But he sure is lingering around those pastries. ]
III. What was Lost
[ At some point in his drifting around this odd realm he finds himself in, Yuri hunkers down on a bench. It really doesn't matter terribly where — what difference does it make, truly? — but he thinks himself quite alone. As alone as one can be in this place, populous as it seems to him. Regardless, after stealing a covert look around, Yuri procures a well-worn leather bound notebook from somewhere on his person.
His expression clouds over, growing distant from all that he's surrounded by as he flips it open to an unfinished page. There, rows of names are penned in flowing, oddly elegant handwriting. Yuri lingers on this, his painted lips drawing out into a thin, pensive line. Does he even have enough pages for everyone? What of those he never even knew...? ]
Assuming it's even the truth...this some 'take my word for it' situation...?
[ He mutters to himself, eyes still riveted to the names there. ]
IV. Wildcard
[ ooc: Want to do something else entirely? Throw it my way. ]